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Hi my name is Matthew Rodgers, i write poems on here, i live in San Francisco, am 26 years old. I have written over 3000 poems so far and i mostly make them available here. tumblr is my main outlet for poetry and i try to write a few times a day. I'm an MFA candidate for Poetry at the new school university in nyc. My poems have appeared in numerous publications, namely the christian science monitor, the tribeca poetry review and the nation, among others. Please feel free to send me any questions or comments, i love to read them, (but note that i don't like doing critiques.) sincerely Find me in the city! I try to make San Francisco my living landscape, you can see me forcing poetry on unsuspecting bystanders in the form of posters on poles where little pockets of poetry serve to infect your life with little snippets of beauty. happymonk
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Pride Happymonk <3 -------------------------------

Likes

his lips like
the line that
divides the
earth and
the sky

now, see this
wrinkle?

he asked me
pointing more to a
profound hillside on
the landscape of his
forehand than to a
wrinkle

yes, i said to him

well, he said, I got this
wrinkle the moment I realized
you were gone

i wish i could
contain my life
in the sunset

the little boy said to me
as he watched the sun
go far beyond the reach
of our eyes and the ensuing
blank bottomless night

if you want to see how
really useful it is to have
an ego

then try to use it
in the wilderness

the mother wept
a single tear when
she noticed her little
boy no longer cared
for the smell of the
jasmine flower

the problem in
man is not so much
what he knows but
what he doesn’t know

and how once he thinks
he knows it prevents him from
getting to know

there is not
only the immensity
of the earth the sky
the landscape that
unfolds in front of
our eyes

but the aspect of time
as epitomized
in the infinitude of stars in
the night sky whose light
that reaches us
only now
have been billions of years
in the making

nowadays even
the bright blue with
patterns of a thousand
finely crafted arabian
rugs butterflies

are endangered

the bench we used
to spend our days
reading in sunlight
conversation overall
delight of not just being
with eachother but our
souls reaching out and
reassuring one another

now is covered in fallen leaves
and bird droppings because of
disuse

today I had to go out there
and clean it, no one goes there
anymore to spend their day

now that you are gone

the modern graces with
tank tops and jeans not naked

like in the past before
mass mechanization mass
digitization mass desensitisation

but still smiling

what a weird predicament for
the only known thing in the
galaxy to identify trees create
art and in general be aware of
the conscious self to think that
the object of it all is to make
money

she doesn’t
know french

but the old homeless
lady rides the subway
all day long reading out
loud as if to all of humanity
Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables

the helplessness
of the individual man

when he is told how
horrible of a shape the
world is in today and
strains to comprehend
various atrocities

when it has always
ever been in
his hands

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